


I'll Help You

by princessgrey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessgrey/pseuds/princessgrey
Summary: Just a very short piece to get me warmed up and back into writing. Dorian takes care of Cullen through lyrium withdrawals.





	

"I can't even remember the last time I slept through the night."

  
It is true. Cullen sleeps fitfully, if at all, and when he does his sleep is fraught with nightmares. If someone told him the cure for lyrium withdrawal was to cut off his own foot, he would do it in a heartbeat.

  
Dorian chews his lip as he watches the ex-templar sink forward onto the desk, face buried in his arms. Here is a man who trusts Dorian enough to see him at his worst, and he feels helpless. Useless. Short of using magic to help him sleep, which Dorian knows would send him into a panic, the only thing to be done is to hold him like this and hope for the best. "I'll help you to bed," he says, although he knows this is a token effort that does little, if anything, to help ease the pain.

  
"I won't sleep," says Cullen. It isn't stubbornness, just truth. "I never do."

  
"You have to try," says Dorian. At this point, the couch has become Cullen's second bed, and Dorian leads him to it, divesting him of his armor. His body is covered in bruises as usual, which Dorian knows are from hours in the sparring ring. Cullen is skilled enough to avoid getting hit so often, but lately he channels what energy he has into attacking, attacks fueled by anger and frustration, and never defends himself. Whether he is distracting himself or punishing himself, the result is a pattern of blue and purple splotches scattered across his pale Fereldan skin. Maker, has he even been wearing his armor for these matches?

  
A draft draws Dorian's attention to the hole in the ceiling. "You should get that fixed."

  
Cullen shrugs indifferently.

  
"I'll have a word with Josephine in the morning," Dorian decides, pulling up a chair beside the couch. Cullen exhales heavily and closes his eyes, and Dorian laces their fingers together, reminding him that he's not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've posted on this website, very short. But baby steps, right?


End file.
